


the colors you showed me

by beneathyourbravery



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, But also, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mark Lee (NCT)-centric, Non-Linear Narrative, References to Depression, friends to lovers to strangers, inspired by illicit affairs by taylor swift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:40:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26779006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beneathyourbravery/pseuds/beneathyourbravery
Summary: mark lee sees donghyuck crying on the playground during his first ever day of school —haechannie, his teacher calls out,fullsun, and mark doesn’t understand.24 years later, donghyuck is mark’s son's teacher, and he might be reminded of burning flames and blinding rays.a redemption story, of sorts.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 46
Kudos: 234





	the colors you showed me

**Author's Note:**

> one day i was listening to illicit affairs by taylor swift after a long, tiring day at work, and the next i was writing this angsty markhyuck wordvomit that i hope you'll enjoy reading if you give it your time <3

_take the words for what they are_

_a dwindling, mercurial high_

_a drug that only worked_

_the first few hundred times_

taylor swift — _illicit affairs_

_i said, this is the moon._

_this is the sun._

_let me name the stars for you._

— richard siken

there’s a loud cry resonating all across the school playground; loud enough that mark lee will remember it for years on end away from this moment now, clear as a day, piercing as the thousand daggers bleeding out his heart. 

the sound should pass unnoticed among the rest of whimpers and sobs that echo in the school ground, for most kids cry during their first day of kindergarten — even if mark himself didn’t, because school was _fun!_ — and not once does it ever make a trascendental difference on one’s life, but for some strange reason he still hasn’t been able to understand, mark feels himself drawn towards the source of the sound; small feet clad in child’s sized sneakers padding through rubber flooring away from where he was waiting for a turn on the swing towards the edge of the playground, where tall trees signal the end of the space in which four and five year olds like him are allowed to play. 

there, sitting down on the ground with the palms of his tiny hands pressed against his eyes, a boy is crying his heart out, small body shaking with the force of his sobs. it makes mark feel sad, because while lots of the other kids cry they never do so completely _alone_ like this one is — sitting all by himself, no teachers or friends around to try and get him back to playing again, and he sort of feels responsible of changing that because if he himself isn’t crying despite being new in a class where everyone already knew each other from the previous year, nobody else should be allowed to.

“hi,” mark calls out, crouching down in front of the crying kid, hand extended out like he used to do to his grandma’s puppy when it would get scared during thunderstorms. “why are you crying?”

the kid gasps, as if he hadn’t even noticed mark approaching him, and he quickly moves his hands away from his red swollen eyes. there are tears cascading down his cheeks like the rivers mark saw once on a trip to the mountains, wet but shiny and beautiful in the way new sights make young kids like him feel. he stares at mark silently for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure what he should say, but after a few seconds he just goes back to sniffling pitifully as he points to the spot on the ground right next to him.

“it’s broken,” he cries, and his voice is sweet and thick with anguish. 

it’s then that mark sees it — a small sunflower, its yellow petals squished against the ground, green stem torn down in half. it must have surely been a pretty flower, mark thinks, bright and warm and happy in a strange way he would not be able to explain even if he’d wanted to, but all that is left now are the remnants of a broken beautiful thing; the ache of a memory, echoes of better times.

“was it yours?” mark asks, lips puckered in a small pout. 

“yes,” he answers, coughing wetly when a cry gets caught in his throat. “they took it and broke it down. said it was stupid.”

mark frowns, because flowers are not stupid — there have always been lots of them on his grandma’s garden back at home, and all of them were pretty. 

“it’s not stupid. i like it a lot,” mark says, moving to sit next to him and gently holding his hand. “my name is mark lee, and i’m five years old. is it your first day? do you wanna be friends?”

the boy stares at their interlaced hands for a second, sniffling so as to get the tears to stop flowing from his brown almond eyes, and mark marvels at the contrast between their skin — golden caramel where he is pale sand, four moles adorning the kid’s chubby cheek where he’s got just one. 

it’s beautiful, mark decides. this boy is beautiful. he wants to be his friend.

“yes,” the kid says, at last, looking up at mark’s face for the first time. “okay. my name is donghyuck. i’m four. i wanna be your friend.”

“donghyuck. donghyuck,” mark tries the name on his tongue twice, and it sounds about right. “okay! then we are friends now.”

“okay,” donghyuck smiles, like he’s forgotten about the broken flower and the endless tears, “ _markly_.”

“it’s not markly, it’s _mark lee_ ,” mark giggles, and donghyuck echoes the sound. it sounds a thousand times prettier than his cries. 

“haechan!” a teacher calls out from a short distance, then, breaking the small bubble they had built around themselves. “haechannie, were you crying? did something happen?”

 _haechan_ , mark thinks, _fullsun_ , and he doesn’t understand. 

but donghyuck responds to the name — the nickname he’s had for as long as he can remember, used by his family since he was a small baby in a pastel blue towel laid atop his parent’s bed, the only one that will stick; stands up on quick feet and waves at mark, pudgy hands and cute cheeks. 

“bye, markly,” he says, and then he’s running towards the teacher that’s already waiting for him.

it’s not the last time donghyuck runs away from him.

☼

there’s rain pouring harshly against the windscreen of mark’s car as he drives down the road that separates the suburb in which he lives now from the city. water droplets slide down the windows, forming rivers of always surprising curves — there will always be a twist towards where you least expect it, the fateful collision against another trace, raindrops playing an invisible race towards the edge of the screen. 

donghyun watches with curious eyes as the watery events unfold, little backpack resting on the seat next to his baby car seat, much more entranced with the drawings rain makes against his window than the instructions his father is trying to give him.

“hyunnie, did you hear what i said?” mark says, looking at him through the rearview mirror with worried eyes. “baby, it’s important, okay? can you listen to me for a second?”

“daddy,” donghyun huffs, four years old but a temper strong enough to pull surprised gasps out of unknowing people sometimes. “you’ve said them three hundred times today! i know i can’t lose my bag and that i have to eat my food well.”

and really, by now mark should know better than to laugh at his son’s witty replies and snarky comebacks, because he needs to set clear the boundaries and teach him modals and all of that parenting stuff he learnt off the internet and endless talks with his mom through the phone, but donghyun is just so effortlessly funny that sometimes he can’t help but snort a small chuckle. 

“and wash your hands a lot. always wash your hands,” mark reminds him, just to nag a little bit.

“yes, i know! daddy you talk so much today,” donghyun whines, and it gets muffled by the upbeat pop music playing from the car’s speakers and the splash of rain against its hood. “are you nervous?”

mark lets out a soft laugh, a little choked out sound that the inside of the car absorbs and lays to rest between them — father and son on their way towards the first day of school, and it has mark thinking in the irremediably trascendental way stuff related to his child always does.

 _is he nervous?_ no, not really. not consciously, at least.

 _should he be nervous?_ he’s going to be leaving his only son, a defenceless four year old from which he’s rarely been more than ten minutes away from, at a school to which he’s never been before surrounded by strangers — teachers and kids like him, for sure, but strangers nevertheless. 

_why doesn’t he feel as nervous as he probably should?_ that’s the one thing mark doesn’t know, because the last four years of his life have been a kind of whirlwind he couldn’t even begin to explain, and he hasn’t really had the material time to sit down and wonder about what even goes on through his head. all there’s been for so long now that it feels like a lifetime have been soiled diapers and milk bottles being exchanged for potty chairs and boiled chicken and potatoes soft enough to chew with newly grown teeth, and by the time the clock hits 9pm every day mark is so tired that he always falls asleep with an episode of _Spongebob Squarepants_ playing in the background.

“shouldn’t i be the one asking that?” mark says instead, and he feels more than sees the way donghyun’s face breaks out into a wide smile. 

“of course not, daddy! i’m super excited. it’s finally time for friends!” the four year old replies, as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world, and it stings a little against the inside of mark’s ribcage in the form of an ache he doesn’t quite know how to quench. 

_it’s finally time for friends_ , because mark has no friends with children yet and work — even when it’s done from home most times — is exigent enough to steal away any possible time to bring his son to the park to play with other kids.

 _it’s finally time for friends_ , and in the back of his mind, mark hears donghyuck’s cries on his first day of school and sees his broken sunflower smashed against the ground.

 _it’s finally time for friends_ , like the ones mark’s lost, the ones that will never return.

his heart bleeds out a little more. the dam will never be fixed anyways.

“of course,” mark says, a little breathless, a little wild. “it’s gonna be so much fun. promise me you won’t cry?”

“daddy,” donghyun groans, annoyance clear in his high pitched little voice, “big boys don’t _cry_.”

mark’s been crying himself to sleep every other night for the last seven years, but that’s not something a four year old needs to know.

he smiles at donghyun through the rearview mirror, and it’s a little strained, but it does the trick.

☼

when mark pulls up into the elementary school’s parking lot, the sun starts to peek out from behind thick, dark clouds and rain stops pouring; only the petrichor smell of humid grass scenting the gentle breeze shaking tree branches enough for the first autumn leaves to fall. 

mark steps into a puddle when he gets out of his seat, cold water soaking through his shoes and wetting his socks, and he suppresses the annoyed groan that threatens to bubble past his throat because luck has never been on his side anyways. he walks to donghyun’s side then; opens his door and picks him from his carseat, telling him to be careful of the ground when he sets him down.

“c’mon, daddy, c’mon!” donghyun whines impatiently, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “let’s go to school! let’s make friends!”

“alright, alright,” mark laughs, and his shoes squelch when he starts walking with his child’s little hand held tight in his own. “but don’t forget daddy, okay? pinkie promise?”

“ _daddy_ ,” donghyun giggles, brown bowl cut hair moving with the bounce he’s got in his step, “as if i ever could! you’re my favorite daddy ever.”

mark smiles so wide his cheeks hurt. in his eyes, a couple tears start welling up and he wills them away not for the first time today. 

cascades have nothing on mark’s eyes these days, for tears flow freely down his cheeks so often that he’s afraid they’ll start leaving traces like rivers crashing through stone do; an unerasable proof of his very own pain, of the well-deserved kind of dark pit he dug himself into so long ago that he’s already forgotten what light feels like on his skin. 

mark’s eyes — they held the whole universe once, eons ago, another memory stocked away in a far drawer; dust collecting around it, the peace that comes with letting go not one that he’ll ever get to feel. 

galaxies and stars, they were never reserved for people like him.

before mark has time to notice it, too lost in his own thoughts to realise, they’re already standing at the front gate of the school, and his grip on donghyun’s hand tightens the slightest bit at the imminent threat of losing his baby amidst the sea of kids and parents waiting for teachers to come out and take their children away. it feels a little alien, to be surrounded by people who also have to take care of their own little human just like mark does, and for a second he wonders if they’re doing better than he is; if his poor efforts at keeping his life from sinking for the sake of them both have been enough, if the dark bags under his tired eyes show just how much the duty of raising a kid on his own at twenty-five had come too large for him. 

donghyun’s tugging on his hand is what draws mark away from his morning self-deprecating trip down the abyss, and it’s then that he notices that kindergarten kids are already being sorted into their classes — small lines of tiny children waving goodbye to their parents when they’re done talking to the class assigned teacher; some with smiles bigger than their little faces, some on the verge of breaking down into hysterical fits of cries, and what looks like the school’s responsible reading names off neatly folded paper sheets.

“you gotta pay attention daddy,” donghyun thinks he’s whispering to mark, when in reality he’s just using a weird voice tone his dad will never find anything less than endearing, “they can call my name anytime! and you have to walk me up to the line.”

mark laughs softly, and he can’t help but ruffle donghyun’s hair despite how whiny it always makes him. donghyun might have come to him unannounced, the lastest sick twist of fate mark could’ve never guessed upon, but in the long run — despite the efforts and the sacrifice, sleepless nights and recurrent panic attacks — he’s turned out to be more of a blessing than anything else. 

it might sound selfish, mark will admit, but if he didn’t have donghyun — crawling into his bed at midnight after a scary dream, coloring the walls and throwing broccoli away when he doesn’t look; pressing small kisses to his cheek, _you’re my favorite person, daddy_. he wouldn’t have anything, if it weren’t for his son.

“lee donghyun,” the head teacher calls out loudly, and donghyun gasps excitedly beside him. “sunflower class!”

“let’s go!” donghyun giggles excitedly, already rushing towards the one supposed to be the line for his class, and mark doesn’t let go of his hand as they sort through the families still waiting to be called. 

“hello!” the teacher says when donghyun finally makes it to the line, crouched down so he’s at the children’s eye level height, voice sweet like syrup when he speaks. “welcome to the sunflower class! what’s your name?”

“lee donghyun,” he says proudly, back straight as a pole before directing his gaze up to his father. “daddy, you can let go of my hand now,” he fails to whisper again. 

mark wishes he could have heard him over the white noise filling his ears.

his heartbeat hammers wildly right against his adam apple, throat closed under a knot so tight he’s starting to feel lightheaded; as if air had forgotten its way into his lungs and his brain had simply decided to stop working at the sight that’s been presented to him, the most cruel, twisted joke the universe could have come up with this time. 

“yeah! it’s okay, you can-” that sweet, mellow voice goes to reassure, yellow and golden and full of something mark will never get to taste again.

but then, in the ephemeral moment between a stare and a word, a single breathless word drives through the narrow space in between his ribs and reaches his dark, marred heart; sharp as a dagger, certain as a fatal blow.

“mark.”

the world stops turning, and the abrupt motion of it tilting on its axis sends mark tumbling into the ground with the force of the wildest of hurricanes; the almond eyes and caramel cheeks he’s tasted in his dreams a billion times first-line witnesses to the moment that changes it all.

the invisible fist is tight around his neck, inexistent fingers tearing into flesh and searching for what little is left inside his chest to tear it down to shreds. they won’t find much; mark’s been void all this time, ink black running through his veins where there was gold, once, and yellow and pink and something sweet he no longer recalls. 

it feels too much like the end, as if there had ever been a beginning in the first place, and mark feels sick with the epiphany that’s presented to him on a silver plate — _you’ll never get to run away from what you did, it was never your choice to make, despair made a home out of your heart_.

in his metaphorical last intake of breath before the finale, a name makes its way past his chapped lips, face so open he fears everything will spill out of him and lay bare across the padded ground.

“donghyuck.”

air grows still in between them, as if time had stopped itself on the exact instant in which mark lee’s eyes caught sight of donghyuck’s angelic stance, and silence stretches itself thin until mark regains consciousness of where he is — his son’s hand held tightly in his own, the schoolyard bursting with people, earth continuing its orbit despite the meteor that just crashed against his bones.

“i- wow, hey. this is, well. this is a surprise,” donghyuck says then, as if words were still allowed to be spoken between them. mark is not sure they are, but donghyuk’s voice tears through his flesh one more time; another wound that won’t heal, the next scar on the endless list of sour-tasted reminders of his own faults. “will you be picking him up later or will it be his mom?”

“there’s no mom,” mark manages to say three seconds too late, for there’s no other truth, and it is too much of a strangled little sound for how much weight it holds. “it’ll be me.”

everything in donghyuck is golden; his caramel hair, curling slightly around his ears, longish tips brushing the base of his neck; his honey skin, and the four moles mark can see every time he closes his eyes, the painting that’s been engraved on the back of his retines for a lifetime now; his almond eyes, always honest, always true, _don’t call me kid, i’m not your baby_ , the life-changing realisation that the most beautiful things are simply not allowed to last.

he looks like a dream, despite the unforgiving pass of the time, the unbearable weight of the pain he’s had too endure; twenty-eight now, still as bright, still as gold. unattainable, out of mark’s reach, the most exquisite of fairytale princes.

“alright,” donghyuck says, and donghyun lets go of mark’s hand when his teacher returns his gaze to him. “i’ll walk the class out through the front door, so wait there at one o’clock, please.”

and with that, he turns around and walks away — one more time, mark’s most recurrent nightmare unfolding right in front of his very awake eyes, the one mistake he’ll never be able to fix. 

and mark. he can only watch, as distant voices keep on calling out names and classes that do not reach his ears, as donghyuck’s gentle touches guide children into the school building when all the kids have been sorted into place. donghyun waves at him at the last moment, and it’s by mere instinct that mark returns the gesture, for he doesn’t feel like he’s in charge of his body anymore. 

his socks are still wet from where he stepped into the puddle. luck has never been on his side anyways.

donghyuck doesn’t look back, but that too isn’t new. 

when all the kids have all walked in, weeping, tired parents start to exit the schoolground towards the parking lot — making small talk about how difficult first days always are and how their kid is the best one out of them all. 

mark follows them, lost in the blues, and his shoes squelch with every step he takes. his eyes are wet, too, and when the tears start to fall, he tries to tell himself it’s because of donghyun and not because of the brutal reminder of the darkness of his heart.

by the time he makes it to the car, every trace of rain is gone, and the sun shines bright on the sky; it sends stray rays of autumn light to reflect on his jacket, a desperate try at warming up his frozen soul.

it’s a futile attempt. he’s been trying to warm it back into life for years; but with every breath he takes, it dies and it dies and it dies until he’s left a breathless mess, every single time.

when mark gets into the car, there’s a yellow leaf stuck on his sleeve.

and so he cries.

☼

autumn blows colder than usual this year. tree leaves started falling earlier, a brown and orange and yellow rug keeping the ground warm and safe from the slowly cooling breeze and intermittent rain outbursts, and so the frame of a skinny boy with the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head does not stand out from the mass of people walking up and down one of the main avenues of the city tonight. 

his friends had asked when they’d seen him ready to leave their shared flat when the sun was already setting on the horizon, confused at the sight he made with his face obscured from the hood as he tied up his shoes.

“i’m going out for a run,” he’d told them, and his voice had shaken with the weight of the lie on the back of his tongue. 

years from now, it’ll be as easy as telling the time, as natural as blinking his eyes. but today, his voice shakes, and yukhei squints his eyes at him but doesn’t say a word when he turns around to leave; hands tucked into his pockets, phone gripped tight inside his clammy hand.

the walk from the university district in which they live to the city center is one he knows by heart — comes from having lived forever in a place his parents decided to leave when he was old enough to choose and stay for college, from having shown his new friends around when they came new to the city, but tonight he chooses a different path; the side streets nobody takes, the route he only knows from endless times wandering around the city he hopes will now shelter him from unwanted eyes and the tragic insecurity of his very own heart. 

it’s strange, the way it feels as if he’s doing something taboo; illicit, forbidden, wrong in a twisted way he cannot really put his finger on — in a way he cannot wash away from his skin no matter how much he tries, as if he were driving himself away from forgiveness, giving up a part of himself by the mere act of indulging in the wishes of his heart.

when he arrives, the moon is already hanging on the night sky, and the dim light coming from the streetlamps is dulled under the violent flashing emanating from restaurants and stores and places people come to get lost to. 

“mark?” the sweetest voice calls out; the song of a siren in a stormy night, luring sailors and pirates alike into the most tragic of fates.

even if the world were lost in the shadows, not even the stars reaching far enough to bring warmth to a doomed mankind, donghyuck would is still shine as brightly as he does tonight — leaving the streets blinded with his light, smile as precious as the sun itself, the eyes that hold all the secrets to an universe no one should be able to know.

and donghyuck. he doesn’t cover his face and he doesn’t cover his heart, _i’m here for you, i can’t believe you really came_ , like it’s all worth it, like there’s nothing left to lose, and mark. 

mark was never strong, but tonight, oh. 

tonight he crumbles willingly, and it tastes like venom and it tastes like heaven, _i do this for you, what are you doing to me, why does it feel this tight inside my chest_ , a turmoil inside his belly he cannot put into words. 

“hyuck,” he says back, and his throat feels tight and his lips tingle with the thirst of a desire he doesn’t know how to quench. 

donghyuck smiles again, his cheeks painted soft pink — whether from the breeze or the sound of mark’s voice, he doesn’t know —, and he reaches over to place a soft hand on mark’s shoulder; warm and gentle, a coat for his soul on the coldest night, the reassurance that he’s still the same sun mark has been orbiting around all his life. he might as well have placed it on his heart.

“let’s go, it’s cold in here,” donghyuck says, golden amidst the silver of the night, and mark nods and leads him into the brightly lit building that awaits for them.

mark is nineteen now, living alone after his family returned to canada and let him stay in south korea for college; enough independence and parents with enough money for him to book a night in a high-end hotel without raising any suspicions. he walks donghyuck to the front desk, and when the receptionist hands him the card to their room, it feels like he just committed a heist of some sorts.

donghyuk is eighteen, mark lee’s best friend since kindergarten, and his eyes as he watches mark’s shaky fingers grip the key are beautiful and they’re happy and they’re sad all at the same time. donghyuck’s smile never falters, full lips stretched around the gesture that says what his words will never, it drives mark insane enough that the second they make it past the heavy wooden door to their room, he’s pressing him to the wall and kissing his breath away until he feels dizzy, but never sated enough. 

it has never been enough. he doesn’t think it will ever be.

donghyuck’s hands are gentle and they are nervous when they tug at mark’s clothes, and mark doesn’t really know how it works with boys but he worships every inch of donghyuck’s caramel skin until he’s gasping and trembling for him, calling out his name like a prayer on his knees, until their lips meet in the most desperate kind of kiss and their hands interlace as they give themselves away.

and mark doesn’t know how they got to this point, when the taste of donghyuck’s mouth floods his tongue like a claim of some sorts, _you’re mine now, look where you got us to_ , when mark’s lips paint gentle bruises across donghyuck’s collarbones like there’s no greater purpose than seeing him gasp for him, when they leave tattooed on his skin the undeniable proof that donghyuck was his, even if only for a night, the golden strings tying up his heart squeezing tighter and tighter until his brain cannot muster any thoughts other than _donghyuck, donghyuck, donghyuck_.

“mark,” donghyuck cries, and mark kisses his voice away and ruts into the solid warmth of his hand. “please, i want you to do it, i want you to be the one.”

mark nods, nervous and clumsy and serious all at the same time, and when it finally happens and donghyuck’s chest is pressed against his own with the pretty arch of his back, he engraves into his brain the memory of donghyuck’s flushed cheeks and the feeling of his touch on his skin for when he has to stop all of this.

☼

“daddy,” donghyun says while mark lathers his hair with shampoo, sitting down in the bathtub as his father tries to scrub away all the grime he came back with from school, his eyes closed tightly to avoid foam making them sting, “why do you know teacher haechan?”

mark’s hands go still in donghyun’s hair, his breath getting caught in his throat for a second at the sound of a name he hasn’t heard in years. _haechan_ , like a memory faded yellow, the color he always carried around. _fullsun_ , the meaning he didn’t take long to understand; the very embodiment of a light too bright for what mark deserved, always kind and gentle and happy and warm.

“huh,” mark’s lips push the slightly breathless sound out, because it’s by mere muscle memory that he knows better than to let himself break down in front of his child. “teacher haechan?”

“yes! daddy, you talked to him,” donghyun huffs, annoyed at the prospect of his father _forgetting_ his teacher. “teacher haechan, and i’m the sunflower class!”

the irony of it all — the sunflowers, the sun — isn’t lost to mark. this is fate, coming back to bite him in the ass for every wrong he’s done, for all his faults and the regrets he’s got. a sort of curse, of a kind of magic he won’t dare to understand, that came from making the brightest person in the world cry for him, ache for something he could not give, promises he could never fulfill. 

this is what he deserves, for breaking a heart he should not have ever been allowed to touch in the first place, too precious for his coarse hands and his ugly soul.

“right,” mark says, and he tries to keep his gaze on donghyun to steady himself. “we, uh. donghyu- _teacher haechan_ and i, we used to… go to the same school. as kids. yeah.”

it’s not a lie. mark would wait for donghyuck when playtime came around during kindergarten, playing games with him and the kids in his class and not the ones in mark’s own, because mark had promised to be donghyuck’s friend forever and that was only the beginning; he would always rush when soccer practice was done in primary school, because donghyuck always waited for him to walk together back home; he cried when graduation day came in secondary school, because donghyuck still had a year to go, because it felt like losing a part of what they were — best friends since childhood, mark-and-hyuck and then the rest of their friends, always together, fated from the start.

it’s not the truth, either. donghyuck too went to the same college as mark did, as if his dull shadow was worth being followed by the sun himself, and they were still the best friends they’d been since the very first day of school even when the world around them started changing at the fastest pace. donghyuck and him needed no words to know what the other was thinking, a secret language of their own not even their closest friends ever got to understand, another thing they kept away from the world outside their bubble. donghyuck stared at mark across the hall if their schedules happened to coincide, kind eyes and knowing smile, _you’ll always be there for me, i will always be here for you_ , and mark would smile back despite the violent kicks of his heart inside his ribcage. 

donghyuck had choked out mark’s name as he came undone underneath his body, breaths mingling together and lips chasing each other’s in the warmth of a bed bigger than the ones they had back home, in hotel rooms so beautiful that the memory of them was impossible to grasp, when stolen stares and shameless flirting had driven them to lose themselves into the delight of the other’s touch. he’d done the same years later, in the back of mark’s new car he got as a present from his parents upon college graduation, in a desert parking lot on the outskirts of the city, no witnesses and no proof to be had of the sin that it was to taste donghyuck like that.

donghyuck was there to witness the darkest parts of mark lee’s soul lurching out of his chest in the form of words he wishes he could take back and swallow down, even if they’d kill him from the inside, and he was there to tell mark that _this is the end, i can no longer do this, i can’t help you anymore, look what a mess you made me, i’m losing myself and i’m losing you and i wish there was something else i could do_.

“so you’re friends?” donghyun marvels, eyes as wide as mark’s own when he speaks, the only reflection of his own self he can look at without feeling sick. 

they’re not friends. 

the might have been, once, in a life far away from this one — surrounded by crayons and plastic cars, coloring books and finger paint, when their innocence was still intact enough for them to live happily ignorant of the reality around them —, but not for a long time. 

donghyuck was no longer his friend when he told mark he’d never seen eyes as beautiful as his, on mark’s high school graduation day, the most beautiful sunflower he could buy pressed into his hands.

donghyuck was no longer his friend when mark stared at him long after his solo turn on the school’s dancing competition was done, the last year he would be participating, the countdown to his college start reduced down to months. mark had skipped on the debate club meeting to attend, and donghyuck had waved at him, happy and unafraid, and mark’s heart had almost leaped out of his chest.

donghyuck was no longer his friend when mark took his virginity in the most expensive hotel he could book, nor when he climbed on his lap the time after that one, or the next or the next or the next, for years on end, the neverending story that exploded like a burning ball of fire in front of mark’s eyes and left him blinded from the pain.

donghyuck was no longer his friend when he walked away from him seven years ago, when he took the color yellow, and all the warmth in the world, and all the words he wished they could have spoken before. 

he took mark’s smile, mark’s energy and mark’s life, and all the stars in the sky with him; and it left mark shaking, raw pain searing at his already rotten heart, the tacit knowledge of being deserving of it all tattooed on the inside of his chest forever. 

“no, baby,” mark says, and he rinses donghyun’s hair with a hand placed over his eyes so shampoo doesn’t get in them, “are you sleepy?”

“of course i’m not,” donghyun is surely rolling his covered eyes, and it makes mark smile, despite the pain of it all. “you haven’t told me a story yet!”

“right,” mark laughs, getting the towel ready to pick him out of the bathtub and wrap him with the fluffy cloth, softened under his fingertips. “how could i forget.”

“you’re just nervous, daddy,” donghyun says, and it should be unnerving how well a four year old kid — _his_ four year old kid, yes, but still — can read him. “you need to go to sleep.”

mark really does.

he doesn’t think he will get to, tonight, donghyuck’s almond stare seared on his eyes when he closes them.

☼

mark remembers the first time donghyuck kissed him with a clarity most memories do not come with. the moment isn’t recorded in black and white in his brain, the colors haven’t faded; donghyuck’s bowtie had always been yellow, but his skin shone brighter than ever that day, a golden boy of a kind that only comes around once in a lifetime, kissed by the sun, glowing with the beauty that comes from letting your feelings burst out of your pores in a gentle pour, soft and sweet, always true, honest to himself. 

the navy suit he wore for his graduation hugged him with a grace that was once only reserved for gods and emperors and kings; caramel hair falling over his forehead light as a feather, no shadows to cover the exquisiteness of his face; full lips and always fuller eyes, of something mark had never been able to grasp, a feeling that reminded him of honey over anything else — sweet and warm, thick, sticky in a captivating way; weaving around his heart until the stares donghyuck would only share with him were the only thing he could taste on the back of his tongue.

mark had come with a bucket of yellow roses, baby blue shirt tucked into dress pants, his hands shaking as he’d watched donghyuck approach him right after his family had congratulated him for making it through high school. and mark had always been like that — shy of his own feelings, scared of others gazing at poking at the secret parts of himself he kept safe inside the armor of his ribcage, unable to word the motion behind the erratic beating of his heart; but he’d also never been like that — hands sweaty when donghyuck had held them between his own, the bucket held in between his chest and his arm, eyes shining with a million little stars; gaze fixed on donghyuck’s tongue when it would poke out of his mouth to lick at his lips, pink with cherry chapstick, a flavour mark had never craved before.

“thank you, _markly_ ,” donghyuck had said, his heart out on his sleeve. “i wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

but donghyuck hadn’t kissed him there, for it would have broken havoc amidst the highschool ground, would have probably sent mark to an early grave. 

no, he kept it a secret until he could tug mark behind the building while his parents awaited for him to go to the restaurant where they would have the mandatory celebration dinner, and mark’s head had felt full of cotton when it finally happened. 

donghyuck’s lips were sweet, and his hands had held mark’s face with a care he could have not expected from anyone else; and when he’d pulled away, he’d whispered, a secret between them and the wind that always touched him with a gentleness reserved for dreams,

“i’m sorry,” cause he truly was, although mark could not understand, “i’ve been wanting to do this all my life.”

he’d walked away, then, as the sun settled over the horizon, the moon taking her righteous throne in the kingdom of the night, and mark.

he’d walked back home on his own, no words left in his mouth to say, the beginning of an ache being born in his chest at the dawning realisation, _donghyuck kissed me_ ; like a vision, _you will never be able to leave this behind, this is the moment that changes your life_. 

mark too remembers the first time he kissed donghyuck. it had not been until months later, summer stretching like a blanket over them, enough time for mark to push the cherry taste to the back of his mind as he carried donghyuck on his shoulders in a water fight against jeno and jaemin; renjun their referee, their last summer before college start, mark ready to delve into his second one.

nothing had changed after the graduation day kiss. donghyuck had never mentioned it again, and mark was too scared to let it live outside of his head; a truth too magnificent for him to stop pretending it to be a flimsy figment of his imagination, definitely not the groundbreaking wave that had crashed against his shore, taking everything in its wake. 

because kissing boys was not something mark was allowed to do; it wasn’t something he’d ever wanted to do, not something he’d been taught to crave, but kissing donghyuck. kissing donghyuck felt forbidden, the greatest crime he could commit in all his life, because he was not a boy but the person he loved the most in the world, and tainting him like that — it would eat mark’s conscience away, until he goes crazy with guilt, unable to grasp the earthshaking want that would grow bigger inside his chest if he ever allowed himself to indulge in the temptation.

but that night — when the stars were shiny on the sky, the moon the fierce protector of the sun she’d always been — mark just couldn’t help himself. 

donghyuck was laying next to him on the grass of jaemin’s garden, everyone else already fast asleep except them both — always joined at the hip, if-there’s-hyuck-there’s-mark, _i will never let you go from my side_ —, and mark’s heart had taken free reign over his limbs. _i can always make it stop_ , he tried to make himself believe, a fool in one man’s shoes, and he’d maneouvred his body until he’d found himself hovering over donghyuck’s with his hands on either side of his head; close enough to taste, donghyuck’s gaze unwavering as he stared into mark’s soul, every single wall he’d managed to build around himself for years crumbling in delight at the prospect of tasting the sweet syrup of the forbidden fruit.

“mark,” donghyuck said, always gentle, the kind hands stopping mark’s pieces from breaking apart, “what are you doing?”

“i,” he’d tried to explain, but there was nothing to tell. 

mark had pressed their lips together, and the summer breeze had stilled and donghyuck’s mouth had parted underneath his own; and when donghyuck finally fell asleep against mark’s chest out on the grass, after two long hours of making out, mark had been unable to close his eyes in fear of not waking up again after what he’d done.

☼

“please don’t tell anyone,” mark says, the same four words he repeats every time he meets donghyuck like this — in the middle of the night, or when there’s no one in his flat, or when they can hide somewhere nobody will know who they are, “not yet, please, i. i need a little more time.”

“so when can i hold your hand, then?” donghyuck pushes, but there’s no malice behind it. mark fears he gave up on it a long time ago, right at the start of the mess he crafted with his very own hands, tainted with the curse of those who greed for more than they deserve to have.

“soon,” mark replies uselessly, and his voice sounds foreign to his own ears. still, he keeps going, “i’ll say it soon, hyuck, i’ll tell — i’ll tell the others, and then. maybe then, yeah.”

donghyuck takes his words for what they are — empty promises mark cannot fill with the void of his heart, because there will always be something else; a fear of the inevitable, _i’m not supposed to like you this way_ —, and drinks them down like they’re strawberry milk every single time; sweet and pink instead of ugly and wrong, over and over again until the truth gets diluted in between wet kisses and eager hands.

mark doesn’t recognise himself anymore. he stops seeing the boy he’d always known when he stares at his reflection on the mirror, all the good gone from his sharp face, the kindness in his starry eyes replaced by something he cannot name, and fear grows thorns inside his hollow chest. 

the person mark sees when he stares, heart beating out on the palm of his hand like that one old pirate tale goes — is nothing but a broken, pathetic version of himself. there’s something wrong, in the way he stands, in the way he looks; there’s something wrong, in the way his brain lurches ceaseless jabs against his own heart, in the way hopelessness and despair crawl up the slowly crumbling fences of his sanity to feed the bubble of self-hatred taking up all the space in his lungs.

mark sees donghyuck walking up to him through the rearview mirror of his brand new car, and he tears his gaze away from the way his eyes recover their ancient glint at moments like these despite how they have become bittersweet. 

honeyed, because donghyuck makes him feel like he still deserves to live like this, despite the weight on his conscience, the stain on his outdated morale; sour, because it will never cease to tear mark’s soul to pieces, seeing someone as good as the boy who’s got the sun running through his veins still coming back to the monster he’s become. 

donghyuck doesn’t smell like himself when he sits on the backseat of mark’s car. he stopped doing so long ago, one of the last petty requests mark asked out of him. 

_“please don’t use that cologne when you come to me like this,” mark had begged, his hands tight on donghyuck’s waist where he sat on his lap, “i can’t get rid of the smell for days on end. “_

_and donghyuck had stilled the gentle rolling of his hips, almond eyes narrowed into slits, and mark had thought,_ this is it _, the inevitable end of the world,_ he’s going to get rid of me _._

_“you can try to erase me, baby,” was the only thing donghyuck had said, sweet poison of his kiss against his lips, “but i’ll always live in your head if we keep doing this.”_

mark hasn’t smelt that one scent in two years now, but if he closes his eyes, he can still taste the sweet vanilla against the roof of his mouth. 

he keeps them wide open, tonight, as he turns off the lights and follows donghyuck to the back of the car; lips quickly finding the conjunction of his neck and shoulder, the spot he loves to dote on the most.

“eager,” donghyuck laughs, and the sound is strained. “missed me already? you’ve been out of uni for two months.”

 _i’ll always miss you_ , mark thinks, and his brain twists it into something dark that jabs away another tender part of his heart. _i shouldn’t miss you like this; this is wrong, we’re not forgiven_.

“you’re so beautiful,” he says instead, and donghyuck’s hands have already unbuttoned his shirt as he speaks so. 

☼

donghyuck sees right through the frail facade mark’s empty words have built around himself one single time; cold winter nipping frost at his fingertips, tears burning hot against mark’s frozen cheeks.

“i’m so sorry,” mark hiccups, chest heaving with the effort, hunched over himself where he sits on the edge of this hotel bed, “you don’t deserve this. you don’t deserve what i do to you.”

donghyuck watches from where he sits next to him, hands itching to reach over and comfort mark in the way he knows best — with his kind touches, tender from pure affection, warm and soothing in an eerie sort of way.

it’s been two years since they started whatever it is that they have now; the furtive escapades late at night to taste each other in empty bedrooms and fancy hotels, the secret glances and unsaid words, the everlasting knowledge that their friendship has been ruined now, in a way that can never be undone. 

because donghyuck now knows what mark’s lips taste of against his own, and he craves more, always more, and mark fears there’s nothing left for him to offer anymore; and mark has felt love on the heart, bright and sweet and overwhelming as everything coming from lee donghyuck is, and it scares him to death because _something is wrong, i shouldn’t want this, why do i want him_. 

donghyuck knows that mark loves silently; it’s all in his starry eyes and his lopsided smiles, in the way he cannot tear his gaze from the sun even when he shines the brightest in the room, blinding and unafraid; it’s in the way he always comes back to donghyuck, day after day, the implied devotion that he doesn’t quite know how to voice. 

and mark — he tries to keep himself at bay, behind thick walls made out of broken bricks and unsealed gaps, the very own cracks of his crumbling soul; the reflection of the pressure he lives under, expectations he doesn’t know how to fulfill and disappointment tasting of acrid venom sliding down his throat and tearing his life apart, slow like the kisses he craves to give, the hand he’d die to hold. but tonight — tonight mark breaks down under donghyuck’s loving stare and knowing eyes, and he shows him his truth, the one he keeps hidden at the very back of his chest, the space so rusted now that it screeches as it comes out of his swollen mouth.

“i love you,” mark says, tearstained and defeated, and it’s the last time he’ll let the words slip from his lips; never again in the years that are to come, even before donghyuck leaves, when twice the time has passed by, “i love you so much that i don’t know how to keep myself sane anymore.”

 _don’t_ , donghyuck wants to say, _let yourself go crazy over me, i love you just the same_ , but even for that he’s too kind for. instead, he places his hand on mark’s naked bicep, soft fingers squeezing around hard muscle, the silent language of comfort they’ve always understood from the other; the one they can’t speak with anyone else. _i’m here_ , grounding as an anchor, the heaviest of rocks sinking against mark’s lungs, _i will never let you go_.

donghyuck doesn’t leave after that, nor in the two years that are to come, when they stop meeting in places where they can be seen and end up fucking in parking lots that forget about their names when mark drives them away, and mark hates the way guilt tightens itself around his throat like a snake that takes away his breath. 

cause he’s never lied, but the truth — it’s too big to be told, to be embraced, for his scared arms and his coward of a soul; and so when donghyuck walks away one night, when mark says he doesn’t know if he will ever get to accept the way he feels about what they are, there’s no heart in his chest left to break. 

it hadn’t lived there for a long time now, for donghyuck had taken it away on a day very far from this one; back in the playground, probably, with his yellow sunflowers and his sunlit smile.

☼

“daddy,” donghyun calls out from his doorway at four am, and mark’s heart leaps out of his chest, “are you okay?”

“what?” mark croaks out, his voice thick with tears, shaky with badly kept-in sobs; the perfect picture of a wreck, one he wishes he could delete, the ugliest masterpiece of them all, “why are you awake, baby?”

“i heard you cry,” donghyun mumbles, and mark fears he too will cry. there’s only so much he can deal with tonight — after the moments that came rushing back into his head from seeing donghyuck again, after years of abstinence from his light, the memory of the blinding rays and burning flames that he’s tried to keep away as his last attempt at surviving, “and i was scared. i thought you were gonna die.”

“donghyun!” mark gasps, bolting out of bed like lightning, and when he picks his son up his tiny body is shaking in his thin light green pyjamas, “don’t ever think that again, okay? daddy is okay. he wasn’t crying.”

“but you are,” the kid points out, tiny hands plastering themselves over mark’s cheeks where they’re dripping wet, gentle tissues for his soul. “please don’t be super sick and die.”

“i will never die, my love,” he coos, already tucking donghyun into bed next to him, “c’mon, let’s count sheep and sleep, okay? it’s very late.”

“okay,” donghyun mumbles, and when he clings to mark’s chest and starts snoring right away, mark starts the count and gets to a seven thousand and thirty two before his alarm rings.

☼

donghyun came into mark’s life in the form of a bundled up baby left on his doorstep with a little note tucked into the fold of his blue blanket.

 _“this baby is donghyun. i’m sorry_ ”, it read, mark’s heart laying at his feet and leaving his entire body knocked out cold, _“i should have told you i was pregnant, but i was too scared to tell anyone, not even you (his father, if his eyes aren’t too clear of a proof for it, mark lee; they were always too beautiful for me to forget). it isn’t your fault, i just really couldn’t, and god, i’m so sorry, mark. i cannot take care of him, and i was going to put him up for adoption, but i thought you deserved to make your choice first, too. mine is set on stone, but whatever you do, please let me know. i’m leaving home to start out from scratch, but i’d like to cheer you on, if you decide to keep him with you; you’ve always been rather lonely, and maybe he can make a good friend. sorry again, for everything, i hope you’ll forgive me for this. - chaewon.”_

chaewon — one of his many one night stands after donghyuck; a great girl, her goals clear where mark was lost, ambition for her own happiness the fuel for her heart. she was kind and she was funny, and mark had taken her back home; and when he’d woken up in the morning, she was already gone, _i’ve got no time for attachment_ , she’d said, _but i’m pretty sure we can have a good time_. 

mark had placed the little baby on his couch, his eyes fixed on the tiny bump his body made under his blanket, and he’d read the note over and over again until a panic attack had finally hit him full on and left him dry heaving over his toilet, his hands and feet numb, not enough space in his ribcage for his lungs to expand and let him breathe. 

but donghyun had started crying, then, and there was nothing left inside mark’s soul that was worth the effort anymore; but the vulnerable, broken sound had tugged at the last reduct of his conscience and led him to pick him up, gentle bouncing of the frail body that was his _son_ against his chest.

“it’s okay,” mark had mumbled, as if there was anyone to hear; as if he weren’t holding a life in his arms, when his own had slipped away three years back. “hey, hey, don’t cry.”

and there wasn’t a rational reasoning for what he’d done, because it had been too long since he last stopped thinking that mark couldn’t really put himself to it anymore; but he’d called chaewon, wishing her luck, telling her he’d be there if she ever needed anything, and then he’d called his mom, no regards for the thirteen hour difference between them, to tell her she now had a grandson, _how are milk bottles made, can i buy diapers online?_

his mother had freaked out; yelled at him for a long while before breaking down into a fit of cries, _what am i going to do with you, you stupid little boy_ , but then she’d explained things and booked a flight to go meet the baby as soon as she could; and donghyun had stopped crying, after a while, and he’d pulled a grimace that resembled a smile when mark had tickled his tummy, and really.

mark had lost his entire life when donghyuck walked away, but this baby right there — with eyes that resembled the light his own had once held, pure innocence and all the goodness in the world; he was his chance at redemption, at giving his empty, shallowly work-driven life a new purpose: to take care of his child, raise him into the good adult mark never got to be, free and kind to himself and the ones that would love him.

“lee donghyun,” mark had tried the name on his lips, and it would take a while to stop his heart from churning at the little difference on its last syllable, but he’d smiled.

maybe not everything was lost; maybe there was still a chance at making things right, after despair had won the first battle. the war of his life — it still had long to go.

☼

today donghyun comes out of school with half a sheet of paper clutched tight inside his little fist, and mark doesn’t pay it any mind at first, quickly walking away with him once donghyun finds him lurking at the back of the parents’ group — so donghyuck will barely see him, a shadow amidst his light. 

“daddy,” donghyun says when they make it to the car, so loud with excitement that it resonates inside the space; mark's hands still shaking despite how he should already be used to this routine after two months of bringing his son to class every single day of the week before work, “teacher haechan said to give you this note. he said it’s important that you read it!”

mark’s breath gets caught in his throat, and he almost strains his neck with how fast he turns around to face donghyun, eyes wild and wide as he zeroes his vision on the piece of paper. 

and it’s probably nothing, he tells himself — something about school activities or homework for the kid of some sorts, but his fingers still tremble as he takes it from his son; as if it were another bullet for his chest to take, the final blow to his frail soul. 

donghyuck’s calligraphy is still as beautiful as it used to be when they were still in school, every character clear and round and sharp where it has to be, and his words, just like they’ve always done, find their way into mark’s bloodstream in milliseconds; straight for the heart, the poison and the remedy, everything condensed in two innocent lines that might as well be the last inflection point in mark’s life.

_“mark lee,_

_i need to talk to you about something (kind of donghyun-related). school days always leave me too tired for it; meet me on the school’s front door on saturday at noon._

_— lee haechan”_

talk about something, as if words were still allowed, as if mark hadn’t broken his heart. 

meeting at the school’s door, like they’re still kids allowed to play, innocent enough to pretend there was no pain in what they had.

“is something wrong at school, hyunnie?” mark asks, knuckles turning white from how hard he’s holding the note in his hands. 

“school is fun,” donghyun says, legs swaying where he sits on his elevated car seat. “can we go home already? i wanna eat soon!”

mark’s appetite is gone. he pushes the folded paper in the pocket of his pants, starts the car and turns the radio volume up until the static sound in his head is gone. 

saturday arrives before mark has time to wonder if he should skip on the meeting and simply disappear — move back to canada, donghyun would have fun there, he could find another job —, and he doesn’t need to set an alarm to wake up because he doesn’t manage to close his eyes that night. 

there’s a turmoil inside his belly, a sign of the storm that will surely brew the second donghyuck talks to him again. mark wonders what his warmth will feel like, this time, if it will be the kind caress of the sun rays on a spring day or the violent sting of the fire that washes over deserts and burns the skin away, and then he remembers there’s nothing for him to taste — donghyuck was never his to lose, and he will never have the right to fix all the bad he did to him. 

he gets donghyun’s bag ready on autopilot, coloring books and crayons and a change of clothes just in case something goes wrong. johnny suh — the only friend mark’s got left, after jeno and renjun and jaemin too walked away from him, when they saw the monster he was, how he’d made donghyuck almost lose his light with his selfish, rotten soul — agreed to babysit him while mark was gone. he didn’t ask no questions, _where are you going_ , and mark had been glad, for he’s not sure he could voice out the truth of what he’s about to do.

reuniting with lee donghyuck seven years from the day he walked out of his life; from the day he realised there was nothing in mark that could be saved, the day mark lost the best part of his life as the sun set and shadow crawled even into the narrowest caverns of his self.

“tell teacher haechan i said hi!” donghyun says in lieu of goodbye, and johnny raises an eyebrow and mark’s cheeks flush. taeyong, johnny’s beautiful, kindhearted boyfriend, picks the kid up while he waves at his dad, and mark wonders if he will be the same person when he comes to bring donghyun back home.

the impossibility of his thought tears a broken laugh out of his throat.

you can never be the same, after walking on eden and tasting the fruit, sin a stain unwashable from skin.

donghyuck is waiting for him with his back pressed against the school fence when mark arrives. his brown hair has grown in the past months, and his face — older, yes, but still gentle — welcomes mark even before his words do. 

“damn, i was starting to think you wouldn’t show up,” he teases, voice light and chirpy, the song of a bird on a golden tree. 

_how could i not_ , mark anguishes to tell. 

“i had to leave donghyun at johnny’s,” he says instead, and donghyuck just nods and starts to walk off towards the park nearby. 

mark feels extracorporeal, somehow, as if he were watching himself move in a dream. his hands tingle with the nervousness that the situation makes him feel, but donghyuck turns his head to smile at him, then, bright and beautiful like the flowers he used to love so much, and mark can’t help but want to touch the sun, just once again, a little taste before he goes.

“i’m sorry for sending that note, you must’ve freaked out,” donghyuck comments, then, beige sweater loose over his hands. “but i really wanted to talk to you. donghyun told me something the other day.”

blood runs cold in mark’s veins, fear crawling up his throat with sharp claws and pointy teeth, and he has to force the words out because this might as well be the last time he gets to be with donghyuck like this.

“what’d he say?” he asks, and he hates the way his voice cracks, because there’s just _so much_ that could go wrong now that it makes panic start to bubble underneath his skin.

“hey, it’s nothing bad, i promise,” donghyuck says, and mark doesn’t miss how he’s got to stop his hand from reaching over to hold mark’s forearm; their secret language of comfort with one another, rusted from disuse, but never forgotten. “he just… donghyun told me the other day that he is so happy, cause he loves his family and he loves his class, but that he hears his daddy cry lots of times, and that he doesn’t know what to do.”

mark’s throat closes under a vice grip, air growing still in his lungs, and fear hurts, but humiliation — she’s one ugly thing, awakening his deepest desires of disappearing once and for all, some things too much for him to endure sometimes.

“and i just,” donghyuck continues, because he’s good; because he’s never judged mark, has never hated him, no matter how much mark had wanted him to, “i know it’s none of my business, cause some things are meant to stay at home and i usually do not make a move based on what the kids tell me, but. i just, i wanted to know if you’re okay. it makes me ache to think that you might be struggling on your own.”

and mark wants to tell him everything; how he’s been struggled even when he wasn’t alone, way before donghyuck left, way before donghyun was born; how hard it is to live with the guilt that comes from knowing you tore apart the only thing that mattered in your life, your biggest source of strength, the light that lit up your days; how much it hurt, losing his best friend and his lover all at the same time, and only realising after it all was set in stone that some things in life tend to be inevitable — the caress of love on the heart, adoration on its peak, the dawning understanding that donghyuck was more than the mere love of his life. he was his soulmate, and mark broke him down and ate away at his light until it was too much for either of them to survive.

knowing why he did what he did — trying to keep donghyuck by his side and in his bed but away from the world’s eyes when both of them were so in love it ached, simply because he feared the backslash, because he couldn’t phantom himself to love a _man_ — could mayhaps serve as some sort of comfort, years from that moment, because it takes pain to grow up sometimes. but to mark, it just makes it hurt all the worse, cause he was ashamed of loving donghyuck as if there was anything else he could do; as if venering the sun, and being doted on by him, could ever be wrong.

it gets too much, and mark hasn’t realised how it’s happened, but donghyuck’s arms are wrapped tight around his middle and he’s holding him close to his chest; the palm of his hand on the back of mark’s head, grounding above anything else, the only medicine that never failed to work on making his panic subside.

“mark, hey, breathe, please, follow my lead, c’mon,” donghyuck mumbles gently against his ear, so softly that it almost hurts.

and mark. he takes one deep breath, and then another, and he breaks down crying like a kid with scraped knees.

“donghyuck,” he sobs, ugly like his soul, honest like he’s never been, “donghyuck, i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry, i’m so fucking sorry.”

“mark.”

“no, please, please. please listen to me, let me tell you just this once, please,” frantic begging spilling in a violent torrent. “i’m so sorry for what i did to you, donghyuckie, cause i. i had no right to hurt you, to _use_ you like i did. you deserved the whole world and i promised you something i wanted to give but didn’t have in me,” the words slicing at his throat as they pour from mark’s lips, wild and unafraid. “and i’m- fuck, hyuck, i’m so glad you walked away, cause i would’ve eaten away all of your light if you hadn’t, i was so greedy and mean and selfish just like that, but it hurts. it hurts so bad, cause i’ve been in love with you all my life, and when i realised that was what it all was about — it was too late, and then you were gone, and i’ve got no right to be like this but i just. i just need to apologise, cause i know i never did. please.”

donghyuck doesn’t let go of him as he talks, nor does he do it while mark keeps crying the broken pieces of his heart out, black and blue in the ugliest tune ever sung.

“mark,” donghyuck tries again, after mark’s calmed down a little, voice like honey for his broken bones. “i’ve always known, and i forgave you a long time ago, you know. it’s time for you to forgive yourself, and to rebuild your life, baby. i’m really not that important anymore.”

it’s not a lie; love might not everything, being young and putrid by beliefs that are not really your own was never his choice to make, and mark has a baby to raise, now, the only person in the world that makes him smile these days.

it’s not the truth, either. donghyuck might have forgiven him, but mark — he doesn’t think he’ll ever get to that point; forgiving himself, it sounds too much like a dream for it to come true. he could maybe get there, one day, if he could stop remembering what he did without the bitter taste of pain burning hot inside his chest, but today.

he cannot allow himself that privilege, today, because donghyuck will always be important; the golden boy he tried to burn down to ashes, as if he could ever be his to have.

“i’m sorry,” mark says again, and it’s tight inside his chest. “i… god, i’ve tried, hyuck. when i realised what i’d done, i’d never felt that bad before, and i tried. i told my mom about it, about what i felt, and i. it wasn’t easy, but i guess… i guess it was a start, and then i thought, man, you lost him because you’re the worst person in the whole entire world,” with a broken laugh that’s more hysterical than anything else. “and when donghyun popped up into my life i really told myself that it was time to accept it, that loving you was never wrong but _how_ i tried to act as if i didn’t care was, because what kind of father would i be if i lied to my own son about who i _am_? and then i allowed myself not only to miss you for what we were, but for how you were my best friend, and how i messed that up in so many ways, and sometimes it hurts too much and. god, i’m so sorry.”

donghyuck stays silent for a moment, his eyes on mark’s face, and he feels himself five and back on the school playground where they first met; donghyuck’s almond stare piercing through his skin, seeing further inside than mark himself ever will. and he feels a little like donghyuck’s broken sunflower, stomped on and ripped to shreds, but donghyuck’s lips form a smile then, his hand reaching over to squeeze mark’s, and just for that short, ethereal moment, mark feels himself to be beautiful in his decadence, too.

“aish,” donghyuck shakes his head, and mark’s heartbeat thumps against his adam apple. “you’re a good man, mark lee. you’ve always been. i’m sure you’ll find a way to bring back that smile of yours.”

mark wants to reject that affirmation, but there’s no space for words when donghyuck retrieves his hand from mark’s to tuck his own hair behind his ear; head tilted to the side as if in deep thought, the bloom of a smile on his pillowy lips a sight to rival the most colorful of sunsets. 

“but if you really miss me so much… you could always start by buying me a coffee — caramel latte, yeah? you always liked sweet things.”

and just like that, there’s a bright spark of hope in mark’s chest, because he knows he won’t get to have donghyuck like he once did — sweet and docile, making a home out of the palm of his hand —, but he might get to catch a glimpse of this better version of the boy who always carried his sunkissed heart on his sleeve — wild and unraveled, free and brighter than he’s ever been, medicine for the homeless souls —, and who knows if he could have the truest friend he’s ever had back in his life.

and mark has so many things to tell him, about growing into himself and about donghyun and a million things all at once; and so, so many questions, a desperate need of getting to know donghyuck all over again just so he can make things right, this time round; slow and steady steps towards an unknown destiny none of them has a compass to point at. 

“would you like to go now? there’s a cute place nearby,” mark finds himself saying, because donghyuck was never one he could resist.

and donghyuck; he just laughs, and the sound is yellow, warm and unafraid and sweeter than honey, and when he closes his eyes for a second before he speaks, the thought that crosses his mind echoes itself in the inside of mark’s ribcage; water for growing flowers aching for sunlight.

_you know damn well for you i would ruin myself a million little times._

“now sounds just about perfect, _markly_.”

second, third and hundredth chances; they were never that much of an impossible to have.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so so so much for reading! it makes me so happy that you spend a little time of your day reading this work (ꈍᴗꈍ)♡ please leave kudos and/or comment if you enjoyed this story, and you can find me on [twt](https://twitter.com/hanniecuqui) and [cc](https://curiouscat.me/peekatom) <3.


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